


Lemonade

by ExecutiveShrimp



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Lemon, Little bit of plot tho, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, just pure filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 20:59:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9921908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExecutiveShrimp/pseuds/ExecutiveShrimp
Summary: When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.  AU, 2x1, PWP





	

**Lemonade**

 

As soon as the door falls shut behind me, Duo is all over me and I don’t just allow it: I welcome it. His big hands delve into my hair, his fingers threading through the strands and pulling on them – almost painfully, but not quite – as he guides my head from one angle to the next. His kiss is demanding and desperate for the first minute of it, like he missed me. It’s raw and honest and I love it. I kiss back in kind, trying to communicate – without words –  how happy I am to be right there, pressed between the solid door and his equally hard and big body.

My own hands draw up his chest with a purposeful caress and then wrap around his neck, locking fingers under the base of his long braid of hair. He is such a great kisser; I never get enough of it. He alternates shallow touches of his lips to mine, with deep explorations with his tongue. I close my eyes and let him overwhelm me. When we part, he keeps his face close to mine and we share hot breaths in the inch of space between us.

I stare into his eyes and a smile forms on my lips that he mirrors. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re forgiven,” he quips and the smile turns sly.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.” I innocently bat my eyelashes at him and pull at my full bottom lip with my teeth; it drives him crazy, and I enjoy driving him crazy.

“If by too long you mean since Tuesday… Yeah, it’s been too long.” His voice dips into a low whisper.

Having him tower over me makes me weak in the knees, but I manage to keep my composure and play along. “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.” It was not a lie; I wish I could have seen him sooner, but there was no time to spare. Something flickers in his eyes – something protective and possessive. His large hands trail down and come around to take hold of my ass and squeeze the cheeks. He pulls my pelvis against his to let me know he is already hard; I figure his anticipation is because we haven’t been together in four days, made worse by the fact that I sent a text earlier to let him know that I missed my bus.

Duo presses our bodies together, and attaches his mouth to a sensitive spot on the side of my neck – a weakness he has familiarized himself with over the past two months. He is sucking hard enough to leave a hickey and he makes it worse by biting into the skin as well. I know I’ll be sporting a bruise for the next few days, but even though I previously made him promise me not to mark me, I can’t be bothered to reprimand him for taking this liberty. The way his tongue soothes over the sore spot draws a quivering sigh from my lips.

He is so good. He is too good.

“How long do we have?” He asks against my skin.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be tonight.” I can feel his smile as he continues to kiss my neck.

Duo moves one hand up and hooks a finger into the collar of my shirt. He pulls it to the side so his mouth can travel to my collarbone, and leaves another hickey there too. I know that if I don’t put a stop to it, I will be marked all over – I can’t have that. As delicately as I can, I remind him to keep his touch light; immediately, he obeys and rains feather light kisses on my skin, perhaps as a mockery to my rules. His fingers are nothing but ghosting sensations over my abdomen, lower back and ass – so light they are ticklish.

He is definitely mocking me.

I’m not worried; I know exactly how to make him forget about his want for revenge. “What do you want to do to me tonight?” I purr breathily in his ear.

“Nnn…” His first response is to recapture my lips in another kiss; not until my lips are swollen does he give me a satisfied look before saying: “I’m going to fuck you.”

That much is obvious – I knew that was the reason why he texted me and invited me to come over – but I don’t roll my eyes at the redundant statement; instead, I mewl: “Yeah?”

The moan that escapes me is real and not at all planned – he pushes one hand between my ass cheeks and my fingers tighten their hold on his shoulders. “I’m going to make you mine,” he all but growls. He rubs his hand into my ass crack, applying pressure at the right spot. “My big cock is going to open you up…”

I bite my lip. Duo isn’t being delusional when he refers to himself as “big”. His manhood is so large, I am certain he touches parts of me that have never been touched before; he fills me like no one else does, and I feel dirty admitting it – even if only to myself – that I love how he feels inside of me. I’ve always loved sex, but no one makes me come undone like Duo, not just because he is big, but also – maybe even more so – because he balances his strength with gentleness beautifully. I always feel like I am being taken care of. Duo is the kind of guy who likes being in control and likes doing all the work – I will gladly reap the benefits of that.

“But first I am going to use my fingers and massage that delicious prostate.”

“Oh shit,” I breathe as my knees nearly buckle underneath me; I’m hanging most of my weight off of Duo to keep myself upright. “Are you going to suck my dick?” I ask pathetically – already, my normal attitude is slipping in favor of being this needy wreck that only he reduces me to.

Duo grins at me. “If you’re a good boy.”

“Mmmm. I’ll be good.”

“Maybe it’s too late for that. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, after all. Good boys aren’t late.”

Oh, damn him. “May I suck your dick?”

“Do you want to?”

“I love having your dick in my mouth.” It is not a lie and that is refreshing. It is part of why being with Duo is so easy: I don’t have to pretend.

Duo lets out a throaty moan and I feel the vibrations in his chest. He kisses me again and, as he ravishes my mouth, he picks me up. I wrap my arms and legs around him to hold myself against him as he walks us to his bedroom in his spacious apartment. At this point, we’ve christened every part of his new home, but as vanilla as it is, I love getting fucked in the bed the most; it’s comfortable and Duo takes his time. I like it when he makes me wait for my release and tests my ability to hold it back – he doesn’t make it easy.

I am dropped down onto the bed and I bounce lightly on the mattress. The red sheets smell clean, like the specific laundry detergent Duo uses. Before I’m even fully settled, the other man is tugging off my boots and socks; I chuckle at his impatience.

“ _Tuesday_ ,” he reminds me. I nod; I am feeling impatient myself, but I don’t want it to be over too soon.

Duo strokes his hands up my legs, slipping his fingers into the rips of the jeans over my thighs, treating me to his kneading touch and his nails scratching through the hairs. Then his hands go up further and they make quick work of the buttoned fly; he peels the black denim off of my legs. “Will you wear the shorts next time?”

With summer already fading, it is a little too cold to be wearing shorts, but I nod anyway. I’ll have to remind myself to make a note of it in my phone; I don’t want to disappoint him next time. “I thought you liked these too.”

“I do.” Duo grins and gives me a predatory look. “But next time I want you to wear the shorts. I plan to make you come in your pants, but I still want to touch these long legs.” He runs his hands up and down my thighs and eases them apart to caress the sensitive skin on the inside with his coarse knuckles. “I want to make you a sticky mess in those shorts, and you’ll wear them home proudly.”

I will have to remember to wear a long shirt in combination with it. I hope I won’t forget – I don’t want to get any looks from old ladies on the bus.

When he directs me to sit up and take off my shirt, I comply. He takes the article of clothing from me and tosses it over a chair, along with my jeans. I lay back down, with my feet still dangling over the edge and Duo stands between my knees, bent forward so his hands can reach everywhere. He rubs his thumb against my lips until I open up and suck him into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the thumb – my teeth scrape his skin when he pulls his hand away from me.

“Save your tricks for my cock,” he says glibly. His erection is evident in his jeans: the shape of him casts a shadow from the center, between his legs, to his right hip. Catching my stare, he fondles himself through his clothes before returning his attention to me, roughly palming me and massaging me until I’m tenting the front of my boxer briefs.

I prop myself up on my elbows so I can watch his pale hands as they work me over. There is a growing dark stain in my underwear, right where the tip of my arousal presses it up. He digs his finger into the wet spot and traces the slit of the head through the thin cotton. I bite on my lower lip and roll my head back with a moan. It’s a relief when he slips my briefs off and there is finally skin-to-skin contact as he envelops me with his hand. He doesn’t pump, or squeeze – he just holds me, and my penis twitches in his gentle grip.

“You have such a pretty cock,” he compliments.

I buck my hips in search of a stronger touch, but it only causes him to let go of me completely and I can’t do anything about it but pout.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs. He straightens up and looks down at me with hooded eyes.

After wetting the palm of my hand, I close my fist around my length and pump up and down, twisting my wrist with each stroke. With the fingers of my other hand, I play with my nipples; pleasure courses through me like electricity, and I arch my back off the bed. I try to maintain eye contact with him – for his enjoyment, but also for mine. His hungry stare I know through and through; it makes something in my belly heat up until the warmth of it is almost insufferable. None of the others ever make me feel this way – maybe they could, but they never bother to try.

I let out small sounds at my own ministrations, and I wonder how long he is going to let me touch myself. I don’t have to wonder much longer.

“Move further up the bed and lay down on your stomach.”

I treat myself to one more stroke, squeezing my fist around the base before letting go. I know my erection will go neglected for a while after this. I do as I am told, crawling further up the bed on hands and knees, and position myself flat on my stomach in the center. I adjust my cock between myself and the bed and then fold my arms under my chin. He is behind me, but I can’t see him. I was hoping he would undress himself first, but I didn’t hear him take of his clothes before the mattress dips as he joins me in the bed. I do hear him open a drawer, and feel the rough material of his jeans as he nudges my legs further apart and kneels between them.

Angling my hips to present myself to my him, I wait. I hear the telltale snap of a bottle cap being plucked open and then a cold, wet finger finds my opening and teases it without pushing in. I sigh in relief, knowing he still intends to take his time, even though I made him wait for four days and an extra twenty minutes. Duo is rarely rough with me, but while I do like getting manhandled by him from time to time, I don’t think I could handle it today. My body is tired and sore.

One finger slowly pushes into me with shallow pulses and I let out a moan to communicate how much his gentleness is appreciated. A rare smile appears on my lips when Duo lands a kiss on my left ass cheek. I want to describe it as loving, but I am hesitant to use that word.

He moves the finger in and out of me in a languid pace, and my eyelids fall shut as relaxation settles in my body. I hardly even notice when he adds a second finger. The two explore me – without paying any purposeful attention to my prostrate – and scissor inside of me.

“So good, Duo.”

He doesn’t say anything; he lets his fingers do the talking. He presses the tips down into the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubs back and forth. A yelp escapes my mouth and behind my closed eyelids, I see stars. The stimulation is so focused – it’s like he found a switch inside of me that turns off my own control over my body. I suck in air with a gasp and hold it. It’s hard to breathe. Every muscle in my body tenses up and my intimate muscles grip around his fingers. He relents the pressure on my prostrate for a moment, and allows me to catch my breath…then he flips the switch again.

“How is that?”

I can barely hear him over the blood rushing in my ears. I’m biting down on my wrist to stop myself from making desperate sounds that I don’t feel comfortable making. I can’t answer him; I don’t trust my voice.

“How does that feel, Heero?” He presses and I know he is not going to let it slide.

“S-so good. It’s good, sir. Thank you.”

He eases up again, only to repeat my torture. He does it until my body and mind are exhausted and those sounds that I wanted to stifle before are pouring freely from my mouth. I press my nose into the sheets and twist my fingers into my hair, pulling on the strands to balance the intense pleasure with some pain to keep me grounded. My saliva makes a wet spot on the sheets as my mouth is constantly open to gasp, whimper and moan.

Duo is the only one I know who puts my pleasure before his own – rather: seeing me come undone _is_ his pleasure. I’m not sure what he gets out of it, but it’s a welcome change for me, although I’ve found that it is more taxing physically this way. There is no flying on auto-pilot with Duo; he is in control. He makes my body do what he wants and it drains me.

Finally, his fingers retreat and his tongue licks up from my tight balls, along my taint, to my hole. I buck my hips, but his strong hands grab hold of me and press my pelvis down into the mattress. He holds me still as he licks me and pushes his tongue into me. The stubble on his chin against my taint is equally maddening. I spread my legs as wide as I can, opening myself up for him. As much as Duo gives me, it is somehow never enough.

I’m panting and I’ve drooled some more by the time he’s done. He crawls up my body, leaving a trail of hot kisses along my spine. He nuzzles his nose into the damp hairs at the nape of my neck, and rocks his clothed erection against my behind. I’m so sensitive that the denim is painful against my skin, but the feel of his hard cock so close to where I want it most adds to my high. I let out a guttural moan and push back against it. I feel his chuckle more as hot breath along my neck than I actually hear it.

All of a sudden, his body disappears and I’m left shivering in the absence of his heat. I listen to the rustle of clothes as he finally undresses himself. I bite my bottom lip in anticipation. I lay there, expecting him to mount me, but instead his deep voice says: “Put the condom on me.”

My tired muscles object as I push myself up on my knees and search my surroundings for him and for the condom. Duo is standing at the edge of the bed, and he is holding the silver packet out to me. I scoot to the edge of the bed and seat myself right in front of him. With my left hand, I take the condom from him; with my right hand, I take a moment to feel him naked in my palm. His manhood is thick and heavy, and surges upright at my touch. I place a kiss on the side of the shaft. I wish I could take him into my mouth and taste him, but I don’t feel comfortable taking that risk. I put the condom on the tip and use my lips to roll it down his length – as much of it as I can take into my mouth, at least; with my fingers, I roll it further down to the base but I don’t take my mouth off him.

Duo moans encouragingly and pets my hair. I know he wants to fuck me bareback, but that is not something I can offer him, regrettably. When he has had enough of my teasing, he cups my chin in his hand and guides my head back until his heavy cock falls from my mouth. He swipes the excess saliva off my chin with his thumb, and eases me back until I’m laying down. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, locking him against me. I hand him the bottle of lube that lay further up the bed, and watch him pour the clear liquid onto himself, then some of it directly into my ass crack. It’s cold and it makes me gasp, but soon the heat of his arousal is pressed against my opening.

My body tenses up; I raise my head up from the mattress and look down at his sizeable member. I _know_ he is big but he feels even more massive with the blunt head kissing the ring of muscle. I feel raw and I worry that his size might be too much for me today if he doesn’t take it extra slow.

“What’s wrong?” Duo asks, more sensitive to my distress than I expect him to be.

“I’m sore,” I explain apologetically. I don’t say anything else – because I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear it – nor do I make any requests – because I don’t have the right to.

“Do you want me to stretch you some more first?”

His kind offer makes my stomach flutter. “Yes, would you? Please?”

Duo smiles at me. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed and bend my legs up until my knees are against my chest. He kisses and licks my hole first, making me relax again, and then he takes to the careful task of stretching me. He’s quick to work two fingers into me, because he knows I can handle it, but he slows his pace and lets me adjust before he adds a third and eventually a fourth. He makes me feel so good – better than I deserve. I toss my head back and moan gratuitously. I tingle all over when he rains kisses on my inner thighs, and the word “loving” comes to mind unbidden again.

I shout his name when he sucks one of my balls into his mouth and then I exclaim: “I’m ready! I’m so ready for you!” But Duo is in charge and he doesn’t deem me ready yet. He continues to thrust the foursome of fingers into me, making me feel relaxed and loose. My channel does still feel a little sore and used, but I don’t have to worry about him causing me actual pain anymore.

“When I’m done fucking you, I’m going to shoot my load on your chest and lick it off your nipples,” he announces.

Whatever he wants, I am fine with. It’s ultimately about what he wants anyway, even though, when I’m with him, it doesn’t feel that way; he makes me forget.

He stands up again and throws my calves over his shoulders. With a hand encircling the base of his erection, he guides the tip against me and pushes it into me, taking it slow, even though there is little resistance. My body easily accommodates him and the additional stretch doesn’t hurt – it just feels good. I love sex. I have always loved sex, and I don’t need to be in love to enjoy it, but I forgot just how much I love it until I met Duo and he reminded me. I’m starting to develop feelings for him that I shouldn’t.

There are things he can’t offer me, just like there are things I can’t offer him. Duo is the kind of man who has a lot of love to give. That is why he can’t afford a relationship: he knows it would consume him and he has other dreams he wants to focus on first. I’m not looking for a relationship either; it’s just not the right time. But whenever Duo unites our bodies as one, I forget about all the reasons why we shouldn’t, and I pretend that we can, that we will, that we _are_.

His thrusts are slow and deep, and he looks down at me with dark eyes. His mouth is open and he pants and moans. After all the pleasure he has given me, it feels good to be able to give back. I clench around him – my muscles may be stretched and loose, thanks to him, but I can still tighten them around him and offer him that extra friction. Duo smiles at me and he kisses my calf.

Lovingly.

“You’re- … You’re s-so big…” I stutter. “Nnnn… Ah!” As he continues to fuck me, gradually picking up the pace, he touches parts of me that have never been touched; he reaches all the way into my chest and prods at my heart. It’s painful, but a good kind of pain. It’s the kind of pain that reminds me that I’m still alive – that I still have a heart. “Fuck me harder!” I beg. “I still want to feel you tomorrow.”

With a grunt, he obliges and pounds into me. It’s a heady rush knowing I can make him lose control with just a few words. My fists clench into the sheets. I want to touch myself – my cock is aching – but I know I’m not allowed without his express permission; I want to be a good boy in the hope of still getting my reward: a blowjob.

Duo is close to his orgasm: his thrusts become erratic, the tendons in his arms and neck are prominent as he fights to keep himself from coming, and his mouth is open with a soundless moan that I know to be his tell. He manages a few more, powerful thrusts, rocking me back and forth on the bed with the strength of it, then he pulls out and rips the condom off his length. I watch as he jerks himself to completion and streaks of milky white fluid land on my chest and abdomen. Duo’s expression is one of focus as he forces himself to keep his eyes open to take in the sight of his semen marking my torso.

“Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me,” I encourage him in a whisper.

The last of his come oozes out of him, and he wraps his left arm around my leg and uses me to keep himself steady and upright. He has a satisfied grin on his face. He takes a moment to enjoy the aftermath, whilst lazily pumping his fist up and down his length, spreading the sticky mess over his skin. Then he leans forward and starts his task of cleaning me up with his tongue – just as he said he would – and sucks on my nipples, even though he didn’t manage to land a streak of come on either of them.

My cock is so hard and yearning for release. The special attention paid to my nipples isn’t making it easy on me to keep my hands off myself. “Please… Please… Duo…” I senselessly beg. I pull at the rope of his hair. My chest and stomach are clean, but he continues to lick, kiss, suck and even bite. It’s too much.

“Hm?” He pretends to be oblivious, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Please… I’ve been a good boy,” I mewl.

“Is that what you think? What if I disagree? What if I think you shouldn’t get to come at all tonight?”

“Ah!” I buck my hips up at his threat and bump my erection against his hard abdomen, leaving a wet mark of pre-come. I knew his threat wasn’t vain; he has sent me home without getting me off first once before and it was excruciating, although I did have one of the most powerful and longest orgasms of my life when I came home that night and jerked myself off. It was so intense that I blacked out for a few minutes and in the haze of the aftermath I even stupidly texted him “thank you” – in the moment after my climax, I conveniently forgot about the pain and torture he had put me through to get me to that point of desperation.

“Please,” I whine. “Oh, God. No. No…” I toss my head from left to right. I’m so hard! I’m right there on the edge! It’s hard to breathe again; my chest tightens.

“Shhh, shhh…” He shushes me with gentle kisses on my cheeks and then molds his lips against mine. I open my mouth for him and sigh in relief when his tongue comes in to play with mine. I moan into the kiss when he wraps his big hand around my arousal and gives it a few pumps. I long to have his mouth on me, but I’ll take his hand as long as it means not having to ride the bus home with a raging hard on. He stops touching me just short of bringing me to my climax; I am about to shout expletives at him until I hear him rip open a second packet and then he slides a condom down my length.

I raise my head off the mattress with the last of my strength and watch him settle on his knees again. His gaze meets mine and he grins before he takes me into his mouth rather unceremoniously. The condom dulls the experience but it feels good regardless. He takes me in deep, sucks hard, and applies extra pressure with his tongue. It’s over soon. Without warning for either one of us, I shoot my load; normally that would be bad manners, but it doesn’t matter much anyway, because the condom catches it.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…” My head heavily drops back down on the mattress.

Duo releases me with a smirk. His voice is low and husky when he says: “You’re welcome.” He carefully takes the condom off me and ties up the end. Without a care, he drops it to the floor and leans over my body again to treat me to a final kiss that I lazily respond to. I feel content and sated, and also very tired. My eyelids fall shut heavily and I can’t pry them open again. There is a real danger of falling asleep on his bed, but for the moment I don’t care and I let myself sink away.

I crack my eyes open again and stare up at the ceiling. I’m alone in his bedroom, lying further up the bed and covered with a soft blanket. I hear water running and realize that Duo is taking a shower. In hindsight, I feel mortified at falling asleep. I straighten up, ignoring the protest of my sore and used body, and scoot to the edge of the bed. Standing on shaky, exhausted legs, I step into my underwear and jeans and put my shirt back on. I’m in the process of tying the laces on my military style boots when Duo emerges from the bathroom, with a towel around his waist and his damp hair free from its usual braid.

“You’re awake,” he states with a sly grin.

“I’m sorry. How long was I out?”

“Only like twenty minutes. Don’t worry about it.” Without shame – why would he be? – he pulls the towel from his waist and gets dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. I’m staring and not being subtle about it; he catches me looking.

I clear my throat. “I should go.”

“Don’t you want something to drink or to eat?”

Duo always offers and while it is very kind of him, but I always shake my head and decline.

“Alright.” He walks out of the bedroom and I follow him.

I idle by the front door while Duo disappears into the kitchen. I study the living room with mild interest. It’s a typical bachelor apartment; it looks a little too sleek and too polished to really fit Duo’s personality. I assume it came fully furnished when he moved here a few months ago, for his career. Duo is in advertising – that is all I know. We don’t really talk, but I assume he likes his job very much, considering he moved here from the other side of the country, and he willingly sacrifices the time it takes to be in a relationship to focus on his work.

Duo comes back and, with a goofy smile, he hands me a zip-lock bag with what looks to be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich; he tries to be subtle about slipping me the money along with it. While I understand that the sandwich only means he cares, it makes me feel like shit – I don’t like the idea of him thinking of me as a starving charity case that can’t look after himself. Even though it might make him self-conscious – it used to make me self-conscious too - I take my time to count the money he handed me. It’s not that I distrust him, or any of them really, but it’s a habit; I always count the money my clients give me to make sure it’s the agreed upon fee.

I frown when I realize something isn’t right. There is one fifty-dollar bill too many. I take it out of the stack, that I tuck into the back pocket of my jeans, and hold it out to him. “It’s too much.”

“Take it,” he tries with a shrug.

“No. There is no negotiation about the price and that rule goes both ways,” I remind him sternly. His generosity comes from a good place, but his best intentions are backfiring. I don’t need my clients to feed me and I don’t need them to give me tips – least of all Duo, who sometimes makes me wonder if I should be paying _him_ for his services, rather than the other way around.

He takes the fifty from me, although he doesn’t seem to understand why I don’t want it.

I hand the sandwich back as well, in spite of my sudden craving for a PB&J. I can make one for myself when I get home.

“When can I see you again?”

“In a few days. I need some rest.” This job takes its toll on the body, especially days like today: getting jackhammered by Anthony this afternoon, without any stretching and without sufficient lubrication, and then getting fucked by Duo’s big cock. I had three clients yesterday and the day before as well. I need to sleep and recuperate; it was too much. I say “yes” too readily and not just because of the money.

Duo makes a pouty face that endears me. “I promise I won’t fuck you. Like I said: I just want to make you come in those shorts.”

The offer is tempting, but I can’t risk one thing leading to another. I trust my own control less than his, and I have no doubt I’ll be ready to beg him to fuck me if he drives me wild enough. So, I smile at him, but shake my head.

“How about we just go out for dinner then?”

I blink at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Boy’s gotta eat,” he replies flippantly.

“Duo…” I sigh. I’ve been in this position before, of a client wanting more from me – and me also wanting more – but I know from experience that it doesn’t work. Boyfriends don’t really work in combination with my job. It’s the only job I’ve ever had – the only thing I’ve ever been good at – and, contrary to what many people assume, I don’t hate it, not anymore. I have good, trusting relationships with my steady clients, I make a lot of money and I genuinely love sex, even without the romance – more with some clients than with others, but I have the luxury of picking the ones I like, and dropping the ones that I have zero chemistry with. Boyfriends get jealous and I can’t blame them, but I don’t want to quit and become dependent on someone only to have the relationship fail anyway because they are ultimately uncomfortable with my past.

Duo can tell that I am about to give him a hard no and he beats me to it by saying: “At least think about it? Please?”

“Why would you even want to? You don’t know anything about me.” All he knows is that I easily submit to him in bed, give good head, keep my body in good shape, and clean and shave myself to his liking. He doesn’t know how stubborn I can be, or how I can pig out on the couch and watch Netflix all day. Nor does he know about my seedy past when I first got started in the business of selling my body. When it wasn’t lawyers and advertisers treating me nicely in their condos, but truckers and drunkards fucking me on the ground in an alley, and then refusing to pay me and just beat me up instead.

“Exactly,” he replies smartly. “I want to get to know you.”

How would I even start explaining my life to someone like him? “Whatever happened to being too busy to date?” When I had asked him why a handsome, successful man – who happens to be excellent in bed – calls on a prostitute rather than just date or have casual sex, he explained to me that he was too busy to maintain a relationship, and he preferred having sex with someone who knew his likes and dislikes and would play into them. I accepted his explanation because it wasn’t uncommon; many of my clients had the same reason for calling on me.

“I changed my mind,” he says simply.

“Okay, if you’ve changed your mind, find someone to date.”

“I found you. I like you.” He smiles at me.

“I’m a whore, Duo.” I use the word for shock-value.

Duo shrugs. “I’m in advertising. You sell your body; I sell my integrity to make people buy dietary pills that don’t work. One could argue which is worse – we could argue it over dinner,” he says smartly. I am about to say “no” when he speaks up again: “Please just think about it.”

I shake my head at him, and I’m midway between annoyed and bemused. “Fine, I’ll think about it.” I turn around and head for the door, but I’m not even two steps away from him when he grasps my wrist and spins me around. He pulls me back against him and leans down to seal my lips with his. I let him kiss me, even though the transaction is over, because I love how he kisses me – like a kiss is all he ever wants, no more.

Only once we part do I realize my eyes slipped closed. I open them and find Duo staring at me with a mirthful gaze. I offer him a sheepish smile.

“Text me when you’re ready to eat, or to fuck. Whatever,” he quips.

I nod in response and then slip out the front door, sharing one last look with him.

In the mirrored walls of the elevator I catch my reflection and I am abhorred by it. I fuss with my hair and fret over the prominent hickey on the side of the neck that will only be darker come tomorrow. It’s a good thing I decided to take a few days off. Some clients handle knowing about the others quite well; some clients don’t. Which one Duo is I haven’t quite figured out yet. Sometimes I sense that he is uncomfortable when he pays me – like today – and he tries to find less blunt ways to hand me the money, but I also get the feeling he does that because he mistakenly assumes that I’m ashamed of what I do, which I’m not. It’s unconventional, I know, and I don’t like looking back on my past – what I’ve done in the past to get where I am now does shame me – but it was all out of necessity. In the end, I’ve found an honest way to earn the money I need to take care of myself, and take care of the people that I love; I’m not apologizing for that.

I walk the short distance to the bus stop and wait ten minutes for the next bus to come by. It’s a forty-minute ride to my stop, and I settle on a seat in the back, away from the handful of other commuters.

It’s not that I don’t like the idea of dating Duo, because I do. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a relationship, and even longer since I’ve last been in love; I’m not sure if I can make it work. Sex and love are two separate things for me now, but what if it’s not the same for Duo? Lately, things have only ever gotten dangerous when the men I’ve let into my life get jealous of one another. I can’t quit for him. I hope I won’t have to keep selling myself for the rest of my life, but if I need to, then I will and it should always be my call, not someone else’s.

Maybe what I am most afraid of is the realization that, if Duo can’t handle my lifestyle, I don’t just have to stop dating him; I have to drop him as a client. I don’t want to because he’s my favorite, but the reason he is my favorite is because I genuinely like him. I do have feelings for him, and I like the idea of getting “more” and giving “more” – although I’m no longer sure what that means exactly.

In spite of very good reasons why I shouldn’t give dating him a chance, I can already tell that my resolve is weakening and will not last for much longer. I like him, even though I don’t know much about him. All I know is that he is sweet and well hung – and knows how to wield it – what’s not to like? One date, if only to test the waters, can’t be too bad and I shouldn’t overthink it – I should take the leap; I’ve taken worse risks than this.

Before I can do another flip-flop on the issue, I produce my phone from my pocket. I open the messaging app and select my chat with Duo. I type:

_Dinner. But I’m paying._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't dare post this naughty story on FF! Let me know if you'd like more PWP-esque lemons like this :) Not gonna lie, I enjoy writing them more than I should...
> 
> Beta: Shima Yi


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